War Horse Fanfic, or the Story Of James Nicholls
by narniaiscool
Summary: Captain Nicholls (Tom Hiddleston) is shot in battle and awakes hours later to find nothing but death and destruction around him. He decides to flee the army and go back to his family, but cannot go on. Obviously, I do not own War Horse or it's characters.
1. Chapter 1

NOTE: This story begins where Captain James Nicholls's (played by actor Tom Hiddleston) story leaves off in the motion picture _War Horse_. It is unfinished.

Captain James Nicholls awoke with a start, lying on the ground in a pool of blood and weeds. There was a throbbing in his head, his back, and a sharp pain in his upper right shoulder. He moaned in pain and felt at the wound, drawing his hand back as the pain became more intense. He opened his crusted eyes to the grey sky above him and wondered how he was still alive. He went over the last few moments he remembered from before he had blacked out; seeing the German soldier taking aim at him, feeling Joey tense beneath him, hearing the screams of his comrades. But that was not the last thing he remembered. There was the sound of a shot, a sudden pain, a sickening smell of burnt flesh, and a crash to the ground. He lay there, unmoving, until he had blacked out from the pain.

Now Captain Nicholls heard no more the sounds of battle. He heard no moans or cries. Not even the twittering of birds sounded around him. He let out a soft sound, but in the silence it sounded like a bomb going off. Instinctively he turned his head to see if anyone had heard it, and found, to his horror, that the blood he was lying in was not completely his own.

An ashen faced youth lay next to him with his eyes open and his mouth agape. James recoiled from the awful sight, recovered his composure, and reached out. He touched the youth's face, using his fingers to pull his eyelids over his lifeless eyes. James wished he had known the youth's name, just so that he could have said a few words in his honor, but as he did not, he sent up a silent prayer to God for his family and friends.

James blinked slowly, letting a single tear slide its way from his face, mixing into the blood and mud and weeds and hopes and dreams that had been trampled and shot into the ground. He didn't know what to do. Where to turn. Why a thing like this could have happened. He thought of the men, young and old, whom he had ambushed earlier that day. The shock and fear on their faces as he had stabbed them. James Nicholls had never particularly thought of himself as a good man, but now he felt he could see his true self, and he hated it. He was a killer. A murderer, and it was a sorry job that he had not been finished off.

He struggled to a standing position, leaning slightly to his left, and looked around at the destruction he had been a part of. There were bodies all around him. Horses and men, young and old, German and British. The day seemed like the most horrid day that had ever occurred. James stood and looked for an amount of time that seemed like forever, and yet, felt inappropriately short for the horrible reverence he felt. All he could think was _'I did this.' _

No living person was around. No one had come back yet to bury the dead, so James figured that he had not been out long, and that he did not have long until someone, either British or German, would come back to look for survivors. Judging by the looks of the majority of the people lying on the ground, James guessed that Britain had suffered a loss today. He knew the right thing to do was to try to go back and find his comrades, but the defeat today had changed his mind. He no longer thought about the country. He thought about all the men lying dead on this field. He thought of their mothers, sisters, fathers. He was disgusted by the thought of doing anything like this ever again. So he stood for a moment, and came up with a plan.

Firstly, he would return Joey to Albert. The boy loved that horse, and he deserved to have him back, granted the horse had survived the slaughter. And secondly, he would return to his hometown that he had not been back to in almost sixteen years. He would find his mother and brothers and take care of them all. He was, after all, the eldest, and he had shirked his duty in the name of service to his country long enough. He didn't even think to question if they would take him back, he just started stumbling to the north, keeping to the woods, and all the while looking out for Joey. But as the day went on and the cool night began to fall, he found his hope slipping. He knew inside that he would never find the horse, and that he could never face Albert again knowing that he had failed him. The guilt and shame was easily suppressed as he walked in the daylight, but as the darkness fell, there was fewer and fewer things to take his mind off of the things that had happened. When he could see no more, he finally fell onto the leafy forrest bed and fell, almost immediately, into a deep, dark slumber.

James Nicholls awoke from a fitful sleep to the sound of a scream, and the unpleasant wet and cold of morning frost. He looked around for the source of the scream, and just only caught sight of a skirt disappearing behind a tree. He had been found, there was no doubt about it, and he had to move before people with questions arrived. But today his wound was even worse than before, and it looked red and puffy, with a yellowish pus seeping out. He knew enough about medical care to know that if he did not receive proper treatment soon, he could risk the infection from the wound seeping into his blood and poisoning him from the inside out. Even with his very life at stake, he could not sum up the energy to move, even one inch in either direction. He closed his eyes and sighed, resigning himself to God for judgement. He lay there, his body growing hotter and hotter even as the air grew cooler, and soon he was in a fever. His head whipped from side to side as he moaned and cried, but he knew that no one could hear him or even that anyone would help a deserting soldier. He drifted in and out of consciousness, occasionally, in his more awake moments, cursing himself for what he had done. It was over, it was all over.


	2. Chapter 2

James awoke with a start, not to the smell of pine needles and leaves, but to the smell of stew cooking slowly over a fireplace. He opened his eyes, and confirmed what his nose told him. But it was not the pot of stew that held his attention, rather, it was the woman stirring the pot that he observed. Just then she turned to him, and considered him with piercing blue eyes that looked him over. He pulled at the covers of the bed that he was in, feeling embarrassed and invaded as her eyes took him in.

"How do you feel?" She asked, breaking the silence.

"Much better," He said, attempting to sit up. The pain in his shoulder sharpened as he tried to use the muscles that had been damaged. He cried out and allowed himself to sink back into the pillows.

She rushed over to him and helped him sit up. "Don't overexert yourself. You could re dislocate your shoulder, and then you'd be in big trouble."

He felt a shiver run down his spine at the touch of her hands. He shook himself slightly and regained his composure, automatically reverting to a military-like way of holding himself and speaking. "Captain Nicholls, James Nicholls, at your service." He attempted to salute, but stopped dead, feeling a sting in his shoulder.

"At ease, solider." She chided him. "I'm Katherine McNeill. I suppose you're wondering what is going on, how long you've been out, but you're going to have to wait. I haven't been able to do much to that shoulder of yours, seeing that your uniform is in the way. I need to make sure that it popped back in correctly, and then you're going to eat. Luckily who ever shot at you missed. You're lucky. So buckle up, because we've got a lot of work to do." Katherine turned towards a doorway in the house and called for her father, whom James supposed to have been waiting in the other room for the duration of the conversation. The man came over to his bedside, helped James stand up, and walked him out and into a smaller room which had a large bathtub, quietly introducing himself as Jacob McNeil. The tub was half filled with lukewarm water, and Jacob left him leaning on the wall near the tub and returned moments later, with a pail of boiling hot water. He poured it into the tub, and then returned three more times, each time making the water hotter and hotter. On the last time, he returned to James and helped the man out of his clothes, putting on him a new pair of underwear that was a couple of sizes too big for him, and into the warm water. He wondered at the man's insistence that he wear the undergarments, but shrugged it off. Immediately James felt relaxed. He sunk into the water and closed his eyes, bending down and submerging his head beneath the water. When he could no longer wait to breathe, he reemerged to the surface and took a deep breath. He wiped the water from his face with his hand, and then noticed that Katherine had entered the room.

Embarrassed, she was holding a tray of medical supplies, cleaning materials, a cup of hot tea, and a bowl of steaming stew, the smell of which filled the room and intoxicated him, his stomach grumbling loudly. He now realized why Jacob had insisted that he wear the clothing. She was embarrassed enough by the sight of him sitting there in the tub in nothing but her father's undergarments. He saw her pull herself together and shake the embarrassment from her face. She smiled slightly, the corner of her mouth pulling up just a bit. Eventually she came closer, setting the tray on a crate near the tub, and pulled up a chair at the edge. She grabbed the teacup and put it next to his mouth, tipping it so that he could take a drink. The hot liquid rushed down to his empty stomach and made him even warmer.

"Ahh." He sighed in contentment. "Thank you." All of a sudden, he remembered the corpses that had been laying on the battlefield, and the guilt he felt he was entitled to. He refused the next sip of tea she offered him, feeling the sudden urge to retch. "I don't-" His voice broke as she spoke. "I don't deserve-"

She grabbed his hand that he had been using to push away the teacup and held it while he took another sip. Much as tried, much as he hated himself, he could not refuse the hot drink.

"Don't say things like that," She said, still not letting go of his hand. "No matter what you've done, you don't deserve to starve yourself."

"I have to argue with you there." He laughed a bit. He turned his head, and she let go of his hand. Surprised, he looked into her eyes and saw that he had frightened her. "I didn't- I mean, I just-"

"No, that's alright." She reassured him, the fear dissipating into pity. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. I understand the horrors of war."

"It's not alright. I deserted." He paused, seeing her soft, un-judging expression. "I mean, I was shot at, fell off my horse, and I blacked out. I know I should have gone back to look for my comrades, but the horror of the battlefield…I couldn't go back to do another thing like that. I can't. Ever again."

She contemplated his words for a moment. "Not that it matters now, but your men need you. You haven't deserted yet. You left to find help. What happens after you're all healed and ready to travel, that's what really matters. Just know that whatever you choose, neither my father nor I would think any less of you."

He doubted that there was much he could do to make her think less of anyone. Nonetheless, her words moved him, and a little bit of the guilt he had been carrying, the part about deserting his comrades, lifted. He felt that there was, perhaps, redemption for him. Near tears, he spoke softly. "Thank you, Miss Katherine. You have no idea what that means to me."

"Yes, well, I have bad news for you." She paused, grabbing some of the medical supplies. "You have to wait until you are clean before you can eat."


	3. Chapter 3

After she had cleaned him and wrapped his shoulder, she allowed him to eat as much stew as he wanted, which amounted to almost four bowls. Finally, when his stomach felt it was about to burst, she took the bowl away and left the room. Her father came back in moments later, and helped James wash himself. The man silently helped him out of the tub and realized that he had forgotten clothes for James. Jacob walked out of the room to fetch him some, leaving him shivering standing beside the tub of water, dirt, and dried blood. Moments later, he returned with clean clothing that smelled of lavender. As James pulled on the shirt, he imagined Katherine washing the clothes with a the sweet smelling plant to give them a nice scent.

When he was dried and dressed, with his belly full and his wound dressed, Jacob helped James back into the kitchen, where he laid down on the makeshift bed, watching Katherine peel potatoes and apples. She expertly peeled the apples in one continuous rope of apple peel, so thin that there was none of the flesh on the peeling. She sliced the apples into thin leafs, and threw them into a bowl on the table beside her. As her father left the house, quietly telling his daughter that he would be working in the barn, she noticed James was watching her and she picked herself up and brought the bowl to him. She grabbed a slice of apple and stuffed it into his mouth, the sweet and sour of the fruit bursting in his mouth. He smiled. Apple was his favorite fruit.

"No more begging," She said, scolding him. "_Really_." She walked back to her seat and continued her task. "I'm making something special for you." He smiled as she went back to concentrating on her work. He felt that he could sit and watch her forever. He couldn't, however, as within moments he began to slip from the world of the wake. The hot bath and food had worked their magic on him. He lay on the bed, ready to sleep, but the memory of his comrades in arms dying in the field kept his eyes open. Katherine noticed his sleepiness and walked silently to his bedside, sitting on the edge of the straw mattress. She laid her hand on top of his and began to hum a soft tune that seemed familiar to him. He didn't have any time to contemplate what it could have been as his eyes closed and his mouth opened slightly, and sleep overtook him. Thankfully, it was deep and dreamless, and for one night he forgot the horrors he had witnessed.

The next morning James awoke to the sounds of breakfast being prepared. Pots and pans clanging together, food sizzling as it cooked, and the soft hum of a tune. He opened his eyes and watched as Katherine did her morning routine, being as quiet as she could, and yet absentmindedly singing to herself.

"I'm awake." James whispered, enjoying watching her turn in surprise towards him.

Katherine jumped and turned to face him. "Good!" She nodded, walking closer to him. Once she had reached his bedside she laid a hand on his forehead and felt for a fever. When she felt none, she straightened and pronounced, "You're looking better, too, but there's still too little color in those cheeks for my liking. We'll get you back to normal in no time at all, if I do say so myself." And with a curt nod she returned to her preparations.

A few minutes later, Jacob entered the house from the front door. Katherine looked up from the table where she was setting out the breakfast dishes and gave her father a brilliant smile.

"Morning, daddy." She cooed.

"He stopped by again." Jacob said simply, without further explanation.

Katherine paused in her preparations and the smile she had sustained suddenly disappeared. "And…?"

"I sent him off."

"Good." She sighed and finished setting out the last bowl, setting it down a little harder than needed. Jacob walked over to James and helped him up from the bed. James winced as Jacob threaded his arm underneath both of his shoulders and pulled him into a standing position, but the initial pain only lasted for seconds, and walking was not nearly as painful. With Jacob's help James limped across the room and over to the small kitchen table. Once he was seated, Katherine scooted a bowl and a spoon to him. He held it still with his good arm as she ladled him a scoop of oats, proceeding to do the same with the two other bowls. She returned the pot to the fire and seated herself across from James.

The meal started off in complete silence, each of the party blowing off their oats to cool them or scraping their bowls in turn. James looked from father to daughter, hoping for an explanation of the strange conversation that had occurred at the beginning of breakfast. When it became apparent to him that he would receive none, he decided to ask.

"Who's 'He?'" James asked as politely as he could, while still managing to sound nosey.

"Nobody." Was the curt reply.

James felt embarrassed he had asked, and mumbled an almost silent apology. Katherine sighed, but did not offer any more information that would clue him in on who 'he' was.

The rest of the morning passed with relative peace. James slipped in and out of consciousness, feeling slightly guilty that he was doing nothing but sleeping all day. Usually by this time, he would have polished his boots, donned his uniform, and started mandatory drills. This sedentarity was boring and only made him more tired. Twice he tried to rise and help Katherine with something that she was doing, but when he he tried, she walked to him and pushed against the center of his chest until he gave up and slumped back into bed. The second time she did this, she leaned down and spoke softly in his ear.

"Come on, Captain. Just rest today. You'll have plenty of time to do all sorts of work tomorrow."

His ear tingled as her hot breath blew over it. James's eyelids slumped down but did not completely close. Tentatively, she reached out and stroked his mussed head of hair. He relished the comfort of a touch. It had been years since someone had showed him this kind of comfort. Even though his shoulder still smarted, he wished that she would throw her arms around him and embrace him until he fell asleep, a state he knew was not far off. His fantasy was so vivvid that he almost felt her pressing herself into him until, with a start, he realized that she _was_ holding him. Baffled and sleep grogged, he assumed that she had read his mind. Whatever the case, he did not care. Her arms were warm and she smelled of flowers and baking, and her breath sounded melodic in his ear.


	4. Chapter 4

When he awoke, he felt refreshed, although still in pain. His shoulder felt older than the rest of his body as he sat up.

"He lives." Katherine said with a coy smile, as she carried two twin buckets full of milk to the opposite side of the room.

"Barely." James replied, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up. He watched her for a moment, and then asked, "Miss Katherine, about yesterday…how did you know…I mean…"

Katherine turned to him, confused. "What are you talking about?"

James cleared his throat. "I mean, when you…when you…embraced me."

"Oh," she said, laughing. "You asked me to."

James was horrified. "I did what?" He realized that he must have said what he had been thinking out loud.

"Don't be embarrassed. All you said was 'I wish you'd hold me.'" She thought for a moment. "I guess it is a little embarrassing. But you were running a small fever last night, so don't be so hard on yourself." She grabbed a hanging ladle from above the sink and began to empty the bucket into a pot on the wood stove.

James felt ashamed of his actions, and his feelings. He wouldn't have been so hard on himself, if he had only wanted her to hold him the previous night. But he didn't. No, Captain James Nicholls realized with a start that he still wanted her to hold him. He wanted to be able to put his arms around her. He wanted to hold her and listen to her sing to herself, her breath reverberating in his ear, softly humming the tune he had come to associate her with. He wanted-

James's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knocking on the farmhouse's door. He flinched at the sound of the ladle clattering to the floor, and he turned and saw Katherine looking incredulously at the door. She gave a groan, and walked to the side of James's bed, leaning over him to look out the window.

"Not again." She whispered, and went back to the stove to take the pot off.

James tried to crane his neck to see who had come to the door and annoyed Katherine so much, but he was only able to see a silhouette of a tall man. With his good arm, he suck his hand in between the crack made by the curtains, and pulled them slightly apart. James stared but could still not make out more than a faint outline. Suddenly the man turned his head, and James dropped the curtain in surprise.

Katherine turned from her work and walked hesitantly towards the door. She paused with her hand on the handle, and closed her eyes, jerking a bit when the knocking came again, this time more insistent. "Come in, Lars." Katherine invited, pulling the door into the house. The man stepped inside of the room and failed to notice the bed that James had been laying in, which was pushed into the corner, up against the same wall that the door was on.

Lars had his back to James, and his attention on Katherine. He reached out and grabbed Katherine's waist, pulling her close to him. He whispered loudly enough for James to overhear, "Katherine, my sweet, is your father in? I can't wait any longer to tell you. I almost died today. I know that you hardly know me, but I-I have feelings for you. I want to-" James noticed that the man had a German accent.

"Please, Lars! This is not the time or place." She wriggled out of his viselike grasp. She stood, embarrassed before him and crossed her arms. "I have a guest." She gestured to James.

Time seemed to slow down as Lars turned towards him. James immediately recognized him. There was no mistaking his eyes. Fortunately no flicker of recognition passed over Lars' face. But James knew that he could never forget the face if he tried. He cold never forget the German solider who had shot him. Never in his wildest dream did he think he would ever meet the man whom had tried to kill him, and certainly never like this. All this passed in a moment, and James regained his composure and sat up straighter. He would not let this scum remember him. Not, at least, until he had recovered enough strength to fight him.

Lars looked the man, with absolutely no hint of recognition in his face. There was, however, the look of a man who felt that his territory was being intruded upon. "Who are you?" He demanded. His words sounded like more of a demand than a question.

"James Nicholls." James responded. "I'm a farmer from down the way. I was going to market with my best sheep when the skirmish began. I didn't have enough time to run for cover. Luckily, Miss Katherine here and her father came to my rescue."

James could see Katherine look surprised at his lie, but Lars bought it without question. Lars begin sizing him up, feeling a threat. James returned the scrutiny. Lars was big, and he had recovered his hand on Katherine's wrist. This irritated James, and he wished that Lars would go away. Just then, James heard a sound of footsteps near the doorway to the other room, and saw Jacob coming in with his bloody, unwashed uniform. Jacob stood stock still, seeing the man with his hands on his daughter. He dropped the uniform and stepped over it, coming to stand behind Lars. He raised his hand, slapped Lars on the back of the head, and spoke more loudly than James had ever heard the man speak before.

"Get your hands off my daughter, you no account troublemaker." Jacob spoke forcefully and level, and James was very glad indeed that he had not been the one who had angered this formidable man.

Lars rubbed the back of his head, backing up slowly. "Sorry sir. I didn't realize-"

"That you would get caught." Jacob finished. "Get out."

Lars reluctantly let go of Katherine's hand and stumbled towards the door, pulling it open with one hand. He gave one last look at James, which he took to mean that Lars would be back to check on Katherine, and then made his exit.

Jacob turned towards his daughter, holding her wrist in his blistered hands. He put his arm around his daughter. "Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yes, father. I'm fine. I don't know how many times I have to say 'no' to that man before he gets it." She looked at James with curiosity. "I suppose you had a good reason for lying to him? Not that I protest, but…"

"I did, actually, I-" James stopped short. Would they even believe him if he told them the truth? Why did it matter anyway? He was a British soldier, and he did not know if Lars would kill an injured man. It was better this way. He decided to change the subject. "How did a British lady come to know a German soldier?"

Jacob patted his daughter's back, and then told her that he would be out in the barn if she had any need of him. "And if that troublemaker comes around here again," He said, his voice back to it's normal low. "Shout or scream. Don't let him get his hands on you."

"Yes father." She smiled. "Really, I'll be fine."

With a nod, Jacob turned towards the doorway he had entered with and picked up the clothing that he had been carrying, handing it to Katherine when she walked over to him to get it. She took the clothing and unfolded it. "This is pretty bad." She said, peering closely at the bloody stains that had already soaked into his shirt. "There's no way this is going to come out, no matter how hard I wash it."

James figured that she had not heard his question, or perhaps, that she was avoiding it, so he repeated himself. "How did you come to know that German soldier?"

Katherine looked annoyed as she refolded his uniform. She sighed and set the uniform on her kitchen chair, bring her hands up to her face to rub her temples. "He's lived down the way for a couple of years now. He has British cousins who lost two of their sons, so his parents sent him here to work for them and help them save the farm." She bent down and retrieved the pan of milk she had been boiling before she had been interrupted and continued her tale, setting the pan back onto the stove. "He didn't start to fancy me until a couple of months ago, when his first choice got married. Danielle Kinley was as pretty as a picture, the prettiest girl around. But she was engaged. I guess he held out hope that she would break it off with her suitor, and it didn't sink in that he had no hope until she said 'I do.' Then all of a sudden, it was all about me. He even tried to make eyes at me at her wedding dinner. I can't imagine why."

James thought for a moment about her last statement. She was not particularly beautiful, nor was she rich, but she was incredibly kind and hardworking.

"To be honest, I-" She broke off, looking at the ground for a moment. She sucked in her breath. "The reason that he hasn't left me alone is, well." She looked into his eyes, with her bright blues that pierced into his soul. "You have to promise not to tell anyone, alright? Especially my father."

James nodded and shifted himself to alleviate the pressure on the one side of his body. A tingling sensation rushed down his leg as blood washed back into it, and it felt like tiny needles pricked his skin. "You have my word." He assured her.


	5. UPDATE

Hello everybody!

It has been awhile. Personal update/excuse for not posting in such a long time:

Well, I've got a new job, took a spring college course and also was in the hospital. So sorry, and I promise I'll try to do better at updating. New chapter looking to be posted by monday. Check back soon!


	6. Chapter 5

She turned away from him and looked off into the distance. "James, Lars proposed to me."

James was taken aback by her outright confession. "And you…have accepted?"

Her lower lip trembled. "I-" She shook her head. "I didn't. The truth is that I've never really said no to him. I lied to my father about that because I…I really like the attention." She wiped her eyes, trying to restrain tears. "He's not the first man who's ever paid attention to me. But when one lives so deep in the countryside, I mean-my father would never understand."

James cleared his throat. A nervous lump had formed there. This poor girl, and the man who had shot him? "Do- do you love him?" He was afraid of the answer.

"That's the worse part." She walked over to his bed and sat down by his feet. "I don't. I've just been leading him on. It's not even that I want to get married, I just wanted something to do. Do you have any idea how boring it is out here, alone in the country? Lars and his cousins are our closest neighbors, and they live over four miles away. There's nobody else around to talk to. And when Lars started to show an interest in me, I don't know, I just needed someone to talk to."

James was a bit repulsed by her words. "You're using him for entertainment?"

With that, her emotions were pushed off the edge and she began to cry. "I know I'm horrible!" She exclaimed.

Reaching out his good art to pat her back awkwardly, James tried to console her. "It's-it's okay. You're not horrible. It just wasn't a good decision."

When her fit ended, she suddenly remembered the milk she had been boiling and rushed to retrieve it, but it was too late. It had over boiled and become thick. She grabbed the pot and sunk to the floor, sitting there like a child, with her skirt stretched out in a triangle, the edges taught against her ankles. She threw the pot towards the kitchen table, the milk splashing, and pulled her knees up to her chest. "I wouldn't blame you if you hated me now." She sighed.

"How can I hate you?" James felt sorry for her. "You didn't hate me. And my crimes are much more serious than leading a man on." James secretly felt relieved. Firstly, he did not want this woman to be with anyone who could hurt her, and Lars had been quite rough. In addition, there was a little feeling that he couldn't quite place…

"What am I going to do?" She wondered aloud, burying her face in her hands.

James took one look at her sitting there, despondent and full of self-hate, and he decided he needed to comfort her. He swung his legs down from the bed as quietly as possible and used his good arm to push his upper body from the confines of gravity. He sat on the edge of the bed, catching his breath, and then stood for the first time in hours. His legs buckled, and he had to compensate by stepping to the side, making more noise than he had predicted. Katherine looked up and immediately began to get up to assist him.

"No," James said. I'm coming to you."

She sat back down and watched him closely, her body tense and ready to hop up and assist him at the slightest hint of imbalance. He stumbled towards her, and dropped, a bit painfully, on his knees. He turned and put his back to the wall that she was leaning on and pushed his legs out from under him, grunting as his shoulder sent pain down his right arm.

"It would seem that we've both done things we're not proud of." James stated, looking at the milk spilled on the floor. "You and I are not so different. I've deserted my closest friends. You've been leading a man on." He tentatively touched her shoulder. "Maybe we can start all over again."

"How can I tell Lars no? He'd never leave me alone." She sighed. "I'm afraid I've sealed my own fate."

James reached over with his left arm and lifted her chin so that her eyes met with his. Her eyes met with his, and for a moment, James's mind went completely blank. All he could see was the light reflecting from those bright, sad, and yet hopeful eyes. James caught his breath, and heard Katherine doing the same. Momentarily, he allowed his eyes to wander to her lips, and he wondered how they would feel pressed against his own. In that moment, James Nicholls lost himself. His instincts took over and he tugged gently on her jawline, slowly guiding her mouth towards his. He tilted his head to the side and was hit in the face with breaking glass shards.

"Oof!" Katherine exclaimed as she bent forward covering her head with her hands, glass becoming caught in her hair.

James struggled to stand and saw that the window had been broken by some sort of bullet. The shot had been very close, because James's ears were still ringing from the crash. He heard the sound of Katherine groaning, but it sounded like an echo from far off. Katherine turned towards him, her face twisted with fear, and said something that he couldn't quite make out.

_What's going on?_ She silently mouthed to him.

James could just the sounds of shots going off in the distance, and the battle cries of men fighting. James shook his head and mouthed back.

_Must be another skirmish._

Katherine's face turned ashen grey. Her eyes filled with tears. Although she turned away from him, he could still see the word she shouted. She pushed herself up off the floor, cutting her palms on the glass shards. James watched her run out of the kitchen to where he knew the back door was.

His hearing already coming back to him, James tried to struggle to his feet, his legs and hand getting the brunt of the effort. His stiff body protested, but his only thought was of Katherine, and how she had no way to protect herself from stray bullets. She was a sensible woman, but James knew that the situation could turn even the most levelheaded people into complete wrecks. And how broken Katherine would be if…

No, James could not think of it. He gave one last push and managed to get his body from the ground. His legs were sore but they carried him as swiftly as he could towards the back door. He opened it and marched out, surveying the scene before him. The fray was almost over, most of the men already dissipating into the woods, and thankfully, not leaving very many bodies behind. James shook himself as he passed an angry looking corpse that seemed to be frozen in an everlasting look of malice and love of destruction. With a shudder, he realized that the man's uniform was very similar to his own, although he did not recognize the man himself. James briskly trotted past the unsettling sight towards the barn. The double doors were open and there was hay and chickens tumbling out of it. He stood in the doorway, and saw Katherine stand up from behind a stack of bales. She turned her head towards him.

Unlike before, when her eyes had gleamed with hope and happiness, her eyes seemed dull and lifeless. Her face clouded over, and she did not blink, although tears slid down her cheeks. James walked over to her, and saw what he had been dreading, but had known would occur.

Sam was lying in the hay, his shirt doused with red. He did not breathe or stir at all. His eyes were shut, so that it looked as if he were asleep, but James knew better. He stood there, stock still, waiting for words of comfort, any sort of words, to come to his head so that he could pay his respect to this quiet and peaceful man. But James's head stayed empty. Instead, he watched as Katherine sank to her knees and kissed her father on the forehead.

"I love you, daddy." She whispered, James just barely catching her words. She turned to James, her voice cracking. "What are we going to do?"

James thought for a moment. "We're going to take care of each other." He reached out his good arm and wiped her cheek. "I need you. I need you to be strong. I can't take care of myself-not with this arm anyway." He stared her in the eyes. "I'll be there for you. For however long you need it. Do you hear me? I'll be there for you if you're there for me. We can survive together."

Katherine nodded, and came around so that she could help support him on his weak legs. They took one last, long look at Sam, and turned away from the gruesome sight. They walked back to the house, taking in the sight of the bodies and the smell of the gunpowder in the air.

"When is this going to end?" Katherine thought aloud.

James didn't make an answer. To him, it seemed that the whole world was in turmoil, that everything that was right was suddenly wrong. Good men could die in battles they weren't even a part of. Innocent women made fatherless for nothing more than being in the wrong place in the wrong time. Most importantly, he had no way of changing it, not in the slightest. He felt lost in his despair until he noticed that Katherine had stopped and was in front of him. She touched the front of his shirt, and pushed herself up on her toes until her mouth reached his cheek. She gave it a light peck, and then returned to her spot at his side, moving once more.

James didn't know when this war was going to be over, or why so many had died. He didn't think he ever would. The only thing he knew, was in the moment that Katherine had kissed him he had felt right for the first time in what seemed like forever, and he never wanted to loose that. He knew, in the moment, he could weather the storm that war brought on, if she was by his side.

The only problem he had now was telling her.

_**Okay guys I'm sorry. I'm going to keep writing it and hopefully post a new chapter soon. **_


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